


Pancakes

by AnotherLoser



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Grief/Mourning, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8200222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherLoser/pseuds/AnotherLoser
Summary: What about something to do with Mick’s favorite food? Or LEAST favorite food? (Bonus points for coldwave, but just Mick is excellent too.)





	

Out of juvie with Len, one of the first things Mick learned is that the kid can’t cook. They had all of the time in the world for indirect bonding while in the place, but vaguely discussing their home lives and sharing some childhood stories was completely different.

Most of their time together nowadays involved avoiding the rest of the world, or at least avoiding the topic in conversation. Neither of them were very good with voicing their feelings even when they did for whatever reason want to talk about it. Instead they steal, or watch movies, or hang out on the farm Mick used to live on and climb the trees and sometimes even have bonfires.

Spending most all of their time together also meant most of their meals, and Mick had to suck it up or take it upon himself to provide food. He wasn’t a chef either but at least he could cook eggs successfully, meanwhile Len’s best talent in the kitchen is making the oatmeal actually have flavor.

Late one morning Len surprises him with pancakes. They’re the worst fucking pancakes he’s ever had, but they and a new lighter were all he was going to get for his birthday, and both from Len, so he eats the breakfast made for him anyway.

[…]

Snart refuses to eat takeout often. Mick would probably get fat without his nagging, so he can’t really complain. Sometimes though he thinks to himself that he would have reconsidered taking the scrawny kid in juvie under his wing if he knew he’d grow into such a picky little bastard.

At least they both got plenty of practice in the kitchen as a result.  
Snart was definitely better than he used to be, he could make real meals now, but he had a habit to shoot for higher level of difficulty than he was ready for. There were a lot of flops. That alone was most of the reason Mick started baking; if Snart was going to cook something with a 50/50 chance of coming out completely wrong then they at least needed a good dessert to follow it with. He doesn’t say this out loud of course, he just eats whatever Snart gives him and only complains when it looks like he’d appreciate the humor behind his words.

Mick’s quality of baking usually looked like a toddler did it anyway, so they were kind of even, but at least his failures still had sugar to save them.

[…]

Lisa was a completely different story.  
She doesn’t even try to cook, that was her brother’s job or Mick’s and who knew how she lived when she wasn’t with them, but the older she gets the more involvement she tries to have in her brother’s life. Probably because he didn’t allow it for the longest time, doing his best to protect her from getting a criminal record too.  
He hits the back of Mick’s head every time he’d talk about jobs around her, but if he didn’t want her involved in crime then he should have called child protective services on their dad and hoped that a foster family would be enough to keep her out of it- and knowing Lisa, it wouldn’t be unless Snart was walking the clean and narrow too.

Mick wonders about that sometimes; why continue their dad’s line of work when they hated the man so much. At least Snart was upfront about it instead of going about it the dirty cop way, but still. He supposed it was the same reason Mick stuck around and got involved in it too. They enjoyed it. Besides, where was a skinny little kleptomaniac and a grouchy pyro going to find work, especially as high school dropouts?

Lisa suggests that they look into culinary school, but their attempts at proper meals were probably the best she’s had, given how she’s probably never had anyone else cook for her. It’s also probably meant as a joke.

[…]

On the Waverider they have limits to their diet. Future food is all that’s actually there, and it all sucks. There’s no flavor in any of it. Snart doesn’t mind because he figured out long before Mick that they can ask Gideon to generate other things, and he is still the master of making the flavorless flavored. He also likes the whole good for you aspect of it. Healthy future food is probably the worst combination of anything that Mick can think of.

Mick only learns about the whole generating other food thing when his birthday rolls around on the ship. He disregarded it for the most part because it’s never been a big deal, even if it was he’s pretty sure these people would ruin it for him, and he’s not sure how to keep track of a calendar when on a time traveling space ship.  
Snart apparently has a system though, and he makes pancakes like he does every year.

The thing with him and cooking though is that he’s become pretty damn good at it through nearly constant practice. He only, only makes pancakes on Mick’s birthday though, and all of the time in between each attempt puts him almost at square one again every time. Surely, Mick thinks, he has to know the flaw to this plan. Maybe he’s just smug about how Mick has never complained and just suffers through it.

[…]

The calendar thing still doesn’t make sense to Mick, but Gideon gets it and his teammates probably do too so he can just ask what the date is.  
After everything that happened the first time they got on the stupid metal box, Mick’s not sure he can think of anything more depressing than a second birthday in a row on it.  
He still doesn’t say anything, and he’s positive that no one was asking the computer for the date, just as he never asked about theirs, but they all do notice how his attitude changes.

Since the day he got out of juvie, Mick had never spent one birthday without Snart. The first time he just didn’t know when it was, found out the next week, and threw a little fit about how Mick didn’t tell him. He didn’t think it mattered, never did beyond the age of seven.

He hadn’t expected it to matter when the day came around without Snart there to make the worst pancakes he’s ever had in the morning, but it does.  
It might be missing the routine, missing the one person who gave a shit, or the fact that no matter how much of a team they are he still doesn’t feel like he can honestly call anyone on this ship his friend, but whatever it is it’s depressing.

He’s quiet that day. He’s good at keeping to himself, good at hiding his problems, but even Mick can’t pretend to be okay this time around. The problem is probably all of the above.  
He’s not sure he’s ever felt so alone in the middle of conversation before. So he skips the conversation all together after the first one.

They all know, just as Mick does, that even if someone were to ask what was wrong with him he probably wouldn’t even hint at it. He doesn’t trust them with his emotions. They’re used to that too. No one but Ray and Jax even tried to talk to him about Len’s death when they got back on the ship, and while he didn’t really indulge them he did suppose he appreciated the effort.

It’s Rip though that says something this time. Most of the day has gone by completely uneventful aside from Mick’s withdrawn behavior, but as Rip finishes a briefing on their plans he adds an offhanded “Oh, and happy birthday Mr. Rory.” Or at least he wanted it to be offhanded, but it comes out fairly awkward like he was trying to find a way to give Mick well-wishes without seeming friendly. Fair enough in that regard, but suddenly all eyes are on Mick because for some ungodly reason every person in this room has grown up with birthdays being a thing.

As soon as he hears one ‘why didn’t you tell us?’ he leaves the room.

[…]

The next day he walks into the kitchen and finds the team lounging about while Ray makes pancakes.  
Mick suspects someone looked at how he’s previously ‘celebrated’ the day with Snart and they’re trying to recreate it. He’s bordering on irritated the second he walks into the room, but trying to remind himself that Ray wasn’t stupid enough to try and replace Snart. He was trying to be nice is all. They were all pretty used to each other by now, and that included things like this- except, well, not this.

Still, he sits and he drinks his coffee and tries to fade into invisibility but at least no one is trying to talk to him right away. It’s almost like a normal morning if not for the dread in his stomach.

They’re good pancakes. Ray actually knows how to make them properly and they’re good and there’s suddenly a lump in Mick’s throat that makes it hard to eat them. He doesn’t think about it, just keeps eating what was put onto his plate until he chokes halfway through because they’re not Len’s pancakes and he’ll never get Len’s pancakes ever again and these idiots think they’re being nice by making a mockery of his favorite shitty food.  
Someone asks if he’s okay and that’s it. Once again he just leaves.

[…]

Jax comes to his room that evening with a completely different breakfast on a plate. “I made french toast.” he says, obviously hesitant to even come into the room in the first place. He’s a smart kid. “I figured maybe some new traditions would be better.” Definitely smart.  
“Or none.” Mick grunts, not honestly sure what to do with this gesture.  
“Everyone does something for their birthday.”  
“I don’t want anything.”  
“Okay but you better tell Ray that ‘cause he tried like three times to make decent pancakes and you looked like you were gonna puke.”  
He snorts and almost smiles. “They were good. Len’s tasted like ass ‘s all. Never got the hang of them.” He explains and holds out a hand to take the plate from Jax. “Took him years to make a decent meal as it is but the guy was determined to make healthy shit taste good enough I’d eat it.”

The kid offers a lopsided smile and amusement in his voice. “Why’d you eat it then?”  
“Cause he made it for me. Hadn’t celebrated since I burnt the house down, decided I didn’t want to anymore but he always made the worst breakfast I’ve ever had for me.”

It’s the kind of nostalgic story that he didn’t really intend to share, but at the moment didn’t mind. Jax seems to appreciate it.  
The kid isn’t great at french toast. It’s not bad, but it’s not really good either.  
Mick cleans his plate and decides it’s not a bad way to continue the tradition.

**Author's Note:**

> Iiiif you would like to give prompts my tumblr is lil-cucumber


End file.
